I'd make a sorry excuse for a griever; when children are dying in the world.

I was surprised to come home empty stomach from skipped studies to an email describing a sorrow of sorts. It took a while for the rain water to soak into my thick roots; my veins and spine, and spark a signal to my head office. I didn't want to believe it was true and give in to my rather good denial. I was sure getting better at that. Then as though I were shot by a rifle; salty red liquor started pouring down my arms, memories from far too long ago flashed like white light before I could remember how to blink. As though every bone under my thin acid flesh had been paralyzed, I sat motionless. Scorn spread across each of my features.

After the bloody mess flowed more aggressively, it came out against my will. Clocks were borrowed from Alice in Wonderland so I could turn back time and pretend to be Ebenezer Scrooge. I could see brightly lit streetlights that kept avenues awake during the late hours; the ones that forced us to shield our rolled back eyes. We dragged our tattered shoes down the sidewalk past Chinese restaurants and department stores as though we were a step past sober, even if we weren't. Of course people would stare and ponder to themselves for we were not afraid to show the world of our ways outside the box in a place called nowhere.

We'd carry monsters in our hands across train tracks and remind god that we were too young to gain the privilege of holding the key to heavens gateway. Sometimes he tested our fate in him. We'd look through the clear windows of Boston Pizza to continue decoding the Super Bowl. We didn't want to miss one second and we pretended watching it was something we always did. I could not believe that our team had lost. I took my temper out on my pillow and threw it at the television screen that night. Those days seem so far away now and I'm sure we both took them for granted at the time, not knowing it would be cut short using a pair of barber scissors.

From mount to gate, from 5 to 10, together we were the Olsen twins on crack minus the mirror image. We were finally going to meet those kids that drove us mental this year. Oh how we wanted to be in that "gang" so bad, it was quite ridiculous how it felt like we knew them already. I often wonder if you reminisce as often as I. Are we no longer sisters? Does the distance matter more? And I'll admit I grimaced at the thought of you for the first while, but could you blame me? I will use vigorous effort to try and hold myself intact. I really hope that you are happy there, even though these past weeks have been hell on Earth for me.

PS: Send me a letter to say how you've been, when goodbyes still meant see you tomorrow.